Advice
by captainbean
Summary: The Time Team are in 1959, and Master Sergeant Logan is supposed to be flirting with a beautiful socialite to gather secret information, but all he can talk about is a certain historian. [Post-Season 1]


**(a/n)** Thank you so much to everyone who has been so welcoming and left me some very nice reviews! Much appreciated. The Timeless fandom is absolutely awesome, you guys are so lovely!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Timeless, this is just for fun.

 **Advice**

"I thought she was supposed to be here by now?" Rufus muttered to his teammates, leaning over the balcony for a better look around.

Rufus, Lucy and Wyatt were holed up around a small table on the first floor balcony of the Miami Grand Hotel Bar & Ballroom, September 1959. They'd snuck into a private saloon booth with only one small working lamp, keeping to the shadows behind the heavy velvet curtains to avoid being spotted by Emma and her lackeys, should any of them have beaten them to the location.

Wyatt checked his watch and threw a skeptical side-ways glance at Lucy. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive," Lucy replied firmly, leaning over the balcony a little herself and scanning the lower floor. "Jeannie Templeton's every move was heavily documented between '54 and '61. She was one of the most powerful socialites of her time _and_ the most high-profile girlfriend of crime-syndicate leader Jimmy Benenzo. She came here every Thursday night for a year in 1959 before receiving a phone call from the front desk telling her that a car was waiting out front for her after his wife had left for the weekend... He was a real piece of work, by the way. Trust me, she'll be here."

"I wouldn't have thought historical socialites were your thing," Wyatt commented, leaning back in his seat and looking over at Lucy, watching her eyes dart around the ballroom trying to spot their mystery lady.

Lucy glanced back over her shoulder at Wyatt. "She's fascinating. She turned state-witness when Benenzo refused to leave his wife and what she _knew_ , what she was privy to, was incredible." Wyatt smiled to himself, watching her talk with such wonder and conviction.

"So what, this scary Mob dude just willingly told his girlfriend all of his dirty secrets?" Rufus asked incredulously, his eyebrows rising in disbelief. "'Hi honey, I'm home! What a day, I had to have the boys kill three witnesses and threaten a nun.' Something like that?"

"Not exactly," Lucy rolled her eyes at Rufus, whilst Wyatt grinned at his friend's humor. "She was the ultimate fly on the wall - there at every party, every meeting, playing the dutiful girlfriend, but always listening. She knew _everything_. The women wanted to befriend her because of her connections to all the powerful men - friends of Jimmy's - and all the men –"

"Yeah, I think we can guess what the men wanted," Rufus scoffed as Lucy tutted.

"And no-one objected to her being there?" Wyatt asked, equally critical as Rufus had been before his childishness had won out, arms folded.

"Not as far as I can tell." Lucy shrugged. "According to her memoirs, none of them gave her much credit, they just thought she was a pretty face on Jimmy's arm. But she was clever. Constantly observing and listening, storing secrets away for a rainy day. I don't think Jimmy ever thought she'd be the one to crash down his empire." She was quiet for a moment. "Eyewitness accounts say she had this charm about her, you'd never suspect her."

"Ok, you're making her sound a little sketchy now. Should we really be seeking this woman out?" Rufus asked, leaning forward.

"Yes." Lucy said firmly. "We need to find out where Benenzo's next meeting is, we _know_ Emma's going to try and make contact with him there. His circuit goes so deep, we can't risk Emma getting involved in that. If Rittenhouse worm their way into Jimmy's organization there's no telling what could happen. Jeannie'll know where it is - we get to her before Emma does, and we can stop it."

"And she's just going to tell us where it is?" Wyatt asked. "How exactly are we getting this information?"

"I'm going to go down there and get myself invited to a party." Lucy said confidently, turning to face them both.

Rufus and Wyatt exchanged a look. "I'm sorry, you're what?" Rufus asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Some kind of party is always a ruse for the real meetings, it's what Benenzo was known for. Fundraiser, birthday party, casino night... always a distraction for the real thing." Lucy said firmly, refusing to be dissuaded.

"I don't know," Wyatt said quietly. "Won't she suspect something's up if you're angling for an invite? What if she thinks you're just one of those women who want to use her for her connections or something?"

"But I'm not," Lucy said, frowning, as if simply being herself would solve all their problems. Whilst Lucy being herself usually _did_ solve all their problems, neither Rufus nor Wyatt looked entirely convinced on this occasion.

"Yeah, but _she_ doesn't know that. She probably doesn't trust other women, if she thinks they just use her to get to her sleazy boyfriend's mob-cronies." Rufus agreed, nodding slowly.

Lucy looked a little uneasy at the cracks starting to show in her plan. "Well, what do you suggest then? She'll be here any minute!"

"Wyatt should do it," Rufus announced, snapping his fingers and pointing at his friend as the idea occurred to him.

"What?" Both Lucy and Wyatt replied dumbfoundedly in unison.

"Think about it," Rufus said animatedly. "She's going to be used to men flirting with her, paying her attention, right? So she won't be suspicious of our handsome young comrade here offering to buy her a drink and partaking in some polite conversation…"

"Have you lost your mind?" Wyatt enquired disbelievingly, shaking his head. "That's never going to work. How is me trying to pick her up in a bar going to get us into the meeting?" A brief look of horror passed over Lucy's face at his phrasing before rearranging her expression back to neutrality.

"You can be charming dude, and you know it." Rufus replied pointedly. "Holding doors open, fastening seatbelts, offering a lady a steady hand out of a time machine…" Rufus counted off innocently on his fingers, looking up to find Lucy and Wyatt exchanging slightly embarrassed glances and not quite meeting each other's eyes. Wyatt did all those things for Lucy on a regular basis, and that was just the tip of the chivalrous iceberg.

"I'm flattered Rufus, I didn't realize you were so observant." Wyatt said wryly with a sarcastic smile, taking the heat and trying to diffuse any awkwardness for Lucy's sake.

"I'm telling you man, spend a little of that currency down there and you'll get us in to that party." Rufus said knowingly.

Wyatt sighed, hanging his head in defeat. He looked over at Lucy. "What do you think?"

Lucy had remained quiet during their exchange, experiencing an unpleasant range of green-tinted emotions, none of which she particularly wanted to admit to herself, let alone to Wyatt. It's not like they were _together_ , she told herself. They'd talked about being open to the possibilities after Flynn's arrest, and she was pretty sure if Connor Mason hadn't interrupted them that day, maybe they'd have done more than just talkabout it. They were stuck in this weird in-between place now, where they knew _something_ was going on, but neither of them knew exactly how to address it. If Emma hadn't thrown a spanner in the works and taken off with the Mothership, Lucy was also pretty sure he might have even asked her on an actual date by now. As it was, they were constantly jumping from one place to another, their entire lives taken up with perilous missions, life or death situations confronting them around every corner. Sure, there was something to be said for the constant adrenaline ramping up the unresolved sexual tension, but the seemingly endless time-travel foreplay was starting to wear thin. Every time he reached for her hand, or held her gaze a few seconds longer than was probably socially acceptable, she experienced a jolt of electricity she couldn't explain. _Pathetic_ , she internally intoned to herself. She felt distinctly uneasy about the prospect of watching Wyatt paying attention usually reserved for her to someone else.

"Lucy?" Wyatt tried again, pulling her out of her reverie.

"Huh?" Her head snapped over to him.

"What do you think?" Wyatt repeated, his eyes gentle.

"Well… Is this really such a great idea?" She started, making a mental note to try and remove the shrillness from her voice. "Wyatt's not the historian - what if he says something, or does something, with his 21st century charm that tips her off and we lose our shot?"

"You think I'm charming, huh?" Wyatt unfolded his arms and narrowed his eyes gleefully.

Lucy ignored him, focusing all her attention on Rufus to reign in her building nerves. "Rufus, level with me. Is this really a good idea?"

"Look, she's some kind of man-eater right? I'm just saying, she might be more receptive to Wyatt, and we're pressed for time… so yeah, I think this is our best shot!" Rufus held up his palms, stating his case.

Wyatt exhaled in resignation, looking from Rufus to Lucy. "I hate to say it, but I think he might be right."

"Fine." Lucy replied flatly, looking away from both of them and down at her knees. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

Wyatt sighed an almost inaudible sigh, his eyes raking over her in concern. How had Rufus throwing him at another woman somehow turned out to be his fault, thus rendering him the receptor of Lucy's cold shoulder? He looked like he wanted to say something, but was interrupted by his poor choice in wingmen.

"So, when she gets here - you go down there, buy her a drink, and charm the pants off her, ok? Metaphorically speaking!" Rufus added hastily at the twin looks of horror on both Lucy and Wyatt's faces. "Get her talking, and get invited to that party." Rufus was distinctly aware of the slight blanket of discomfort hanging over their booth at his unintentional comments, so decided to take the coward's exit. He didn't want to stick around for Lucy's sullenness coupled with Wyatt's obvious pining for her (no matter how many times he denied it to Rufus – he had Wyatt's number). "I'm going to the little pilot's room before this whole thing kicks off… be right back."

Lucy and Wyatt watched his retreating back as he closed the door behind him. They were silent for a moment, Lucy still pointedly not looking his way, and Wyatt still trying to catch her eye.

"So… any tips?" He asked with a beguiling half-smile, trying to ease the sudden tension between them. She looked up at him in time to catch sight of a dimple in one of his cheeks and felt her heart thump a little faster. _Damnit_.

"To help you pick up women in bars? Surprisingly no," Lucy fired back, rolling her eyes and picking at a loose thread on the side of her seat.

Wyatt sighed, pursing his lips. He surveyed her for a moment, now picking imaginary lint from her dress, and still avoiding his gaze. He reached across and took her free hand in his.

"Hey," he said softly. "You know this doesn't mean anything, right? I don't actually _want_ to go down there and pretend I'm interested." She remained silent but turned her head a fraction of an inch in his direction. "And for the record, I've never been that guy who picks up women in bars. That's not really my thing."

Lucy looked up, searching his gaze and beginning to thaw. "Oh yeah? What's your secret then?"

"Lately? Time travel heroics." He half-smiled at her, making that dimple appear again. "But usually just trying to be a gentleman… ma'am." He smiled wider, making her unable to contain a grin of her own.

She sighed, knowing she was beaten. "Just… be yourself." He frowned in confusion at her sudden direction change. "That's my 'tip' for you. Just be yourself, and you'll be fine." Lucy looked down at their lightly entwined hands on the table, and then back up to his warm eyes.

"I think there's a compliment in there somewhere," he grinned, leaning forward.

"Jeannie Templeton just arrived!" Rufus announced as he burst back into the room with urgency, only then taking in Lucy and Wyatt's across-the-table hand-holding. "I- oh, sorry guys… it's, uh, yeah…" Rufus cleared his throat awkwardly.

Wyatt closed his eyes for a brief second, silently cursing Rufus and his impeccable timing, before releasing Lucy's hand. "Is she downstairs?" Wyatt enquired of a sheepish looking Rufus.

"At the bar. You can't miss her." Rufus nodded to the balcony.

All three leaned over the edge, holding back to avoid being spotted, and took in the woman before them: A Marilyn-esque bombshell in a gold-sequined dress that was giving the glitter ball overhead a run for its money. She was sat at the bar, legs crossed and the slit in her dress exposing an impressive amount of alabaster thigh. On her feet where the highest of heels, which Lucy thought she'd have trouble even sitting in, let alone walking. She was dripping in expensive jewelry and an impressive amount of eyes from all around the ballroom were trained in her direction. It was difficult _not_ to look. In short, glamour personified. Lucy gulped slightly.

Rufus gave a low whistle. "Dude. Rather you than me."

Wyatt dead-eyed him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He said darkly.

"Her hair is so big…" Rufus said in awe. "I bet it's because it's full of secrets!" He stage-whispered, chuckling to himself.

"Ok, Lindsay Lohan, simmer down." Wyatt looked over at him wearily.

"Hey, Jiya would have high-fived me for that one. Tough crowd." Rufus shook his head in mock-despair.

"Guys. Focus." Lucy had her eyes unwaveringly fixed on Jeannie below. "She has a tendency to get people to talk about themselves. She's practically famous for it. That's one of the ways she harbored so much information according to her government transcripts… so try and talk about her, rather than you."

Wyatt's hand found hers and he gave it a small squeeze, making her eyes flip up to his. He looked meaningfully into her eyes, eyebrows raised. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Ok," Lucy said quietly, as he squeezed her hand again. "Be careful."

"Good luck, man." Rufus clapped him on the shoulder as he departed the small saloon with one last look directed at Lucy over his shoulder.

Lucy slumped back in her seat, feeling a little disheartened, whilst Rufus took note of her disposition. He cleared his throat a little, catching her attention. She looked up to find him looking remorseful. "Hey, Lucy… I'm sorry I suggested Wyatt take the lead on this one. I know it's probably not fun for you to watch him go and woo a 1950s Glamazon and-"

"Woo?" Lucy interjected, unable to keep a small smirk off her face. "I had no idea you were such a romantic, Rufus."

"You know what I mean," he dead-panned. "I'm just saying… it's not the real deal. It's just the job. How he is with you… he means that. He's real with _you_. Trust me, I give him a hard enough time about it."

Lucy was touched by his sincerity. She offered him a small smile, but masked her hope with sarcasm. "I'm sure when you guys are out for drinks without me you two have to beat the ladies off with a stick, right?"

"Oh, they try," Rufus returned good humoredly. "The man is just not interested. They parade on by and he ignores them, one after the other. He's always wondering 'is Lucy ok?', 'what's Lucy doing?', 'should we call Lucy?'. Dude has got it _bad._ You are _not_ to repeat this conversation to him by the way, I'm pretty sure he knows at least twenty ways to kill me and make it look like an accident."

Lucy laughed again, more gently this time, as Rufus grinned back at her. "I hate to break it to you Rufus, but Wyatt and I are just friends."

"Sure. And I'm Princess Grace of Monaco." He threw back at her condescendingly, as Lucy rolled her eyes at his snark. "Seriously, what's going on with you two? Or am I going to have to keep making fun of you until one of you cracks?"

She couldn't quite meet his eyes as she knew this particular topic was a grey area of truth. They _were_ friends… but they weren't _just_ friends. _Just_ friends didn't find ways to innocently touch each other constantly, or crash at each other's apartments when they were too tired to drive home quite as much as they seemed to (and end up sharing a bed because it was rude to make a lady sleep on a couch and wake up tangled around each other), or think about a particular pretend-kiss-that-definitely-didn't-feel-pretend over and over again in the dead of night… And from the look Rufus was giving Lucy, he knew he could call her bluff.

Lucy sighed, and leaned on the balcony edge. "It's… complicated?" she returned, a little uncertain how to explain the magnitude of the situation to Rufus in simplified terms, and also not entirely sure what he may or may not know already. Wyatt was ever the eternal gentleman, not wanting to rock the boat in the wake of the shit-storm of Lucy's crumbling family situation, and Lucy was always hyper-aware of the ghost of Jessica, despite Wyatt raising the subject of those tempting _possibilities_. Throw in Emma making them play hop-scotch throughout history and Lucy wasn't sure if she and Wyatt were ever going to get off the ground. She glanced over the balcony, seeing Wyatt take a seat at the bar and loosen his tie. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning slightly white.

"Well, this is quite the role-reversal," Rufus commented, garnering a confused look from Lucy. "Usually I'm stuck with Wyatt pretending he's not totally jealous and about to break his jaw from over-clenching." He clarified gleefully.

"I'm not jealous." Lucy said a little too brightly, attempting to feign nonchalance, but Rufus knew he had her.

"Uh huh. What was that I was saying about me being dead royalty?" His sass earned him a cushion thrown in his direction, which unfortunately for them (and their potentially blown cover) sailed over the balcony. Lucy leaned over trying to catch it as it flew through the air, horror-struck as she watched it fall to the floor below.

* * *

Wyatt surveyed the ballroom and the bar beyond it from the archway of the lobby, before zoning in on his target. Jeannie Templeton was laughing at something the boyish, awestruck looking bartender was saying, flirtatiously leaning over and touching his arm as she threw her head back with amusement. _Oh boy_. He was going to kill Rufus, he was actually going to kill the man dead. What a _great_ impression to give Lucy, whom he had no doubt would be watching this entire charade. He had been telling the truth when he told her picking up women in bars had never been his thing. Truthfully, he'd always found the idea of purposefully going out with the intention of taking someone home to be somewhat on the sketchy side… he'd seen it a million times with his army buddies: chatting up tipsy girls and giving them the eye or over the top sweet-talk until they agreed to leave with them. Wyatt always rolled his eyes and shook his head at them, warning them to be gentlemen but knowing it was mostly a lost cause.

And sure, Wyatt knew he could amp up the charm for this gig… unleash a few false smiles, escalate the flattery to Oscar-worthy performance levels if that's what it took. But he felt uncomfortable knowing that Lucy would be watching the whole thing. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea and – heaven forbid – think he was actually enjoying himself. He was fairly confident that she knew him well enough by now to know his true character – that he reserved certain smiles, whispered comfort, extra-mile acts of gentlemanly chivalry _just for her_. Then there were those _possibilities_ … if this whole shindig blew up in his face because Lucy thought he wasn't constantly thinking about The Possibilities and how he should broach that particular subject in the midst of all the daily shit they had to deal with near relentlessly… well, his thoughts returned to the multitude of painful ways in which he would be holding Rufus personally responsible.

Wyatt sighed, squaring his shoulders. _It'll be fine_ , he told himself. Go up to her, offer to buy the lady a drink, get her talking about herself, find out where the party is. Mission complete. Go back upstairs, beg for forgiveness and assure Lucy (again) it was all for show and, hey look, he'd got the secret location, and by the way, would she like to catch a movie this weekend if they weren't shipped off to 1884 or whatever other crevice of time-travel hell Emma could come up with? But he was getting ahead of himself.

He walked cautiously around the edge of the ballroom, avoiding the many couples who were taking to the floor now the house-band had set up and were strumming out a slow-tempo melody. Wyatt was careful to keep his eyes averted from Jeannie Templeton to avoid arousing suspicion, lest he look like he was targeting her specifically. He chose a position at the bar a seat away from her and concentrated on the drinks menu in his hand. _Calm down_ , he told himself. Just order a drink. He loosened his tie to try and shake out some of his nerves… he daren't turn around and look up to see if Lucy and Rufus were indeed watching him about to make a spectacle of himself. Talking to women had never been an issue for Wyatt – he just didn't want to falsely seduce a woman he had absolutely no interest in in front of the one woman he was completely interested in.

He looked over to try and catch the attention of the obviously besotted bartender, only to find Jeannie herself twisted in his direction, leaning on the bar and making no secret of looking him up and down.

"Good evening, ma'am," Wyatt addressed her politely.

"Ma'am is my mother's name," Jeannie smiled flirtatiously at him. "You can call me Jeannie, honey. And who might you be? I don't believe I've seen you here before. And I'd remember those blue eyes anywhere," she winked.

Wyatt cleared his throat, wondering briefly why it seemed that no woman in any era seemed to like being addressed as ma'am when he was just trying to be polite. His mind flashed back to his very first meeting with Lucy and her annoyance at him for repeatedly addressing her as such (and to be honest, _on purpose_ when he'd realized it irritated her; he still called her ma'am from time to time now to infuriate her, though it was dangerously verging into affectionate terminology territory with her these days).

"Wyatt Logan, at your service," he smiled, leaning over to shake her outstretched hand.

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sugar. Tommy, why don't you pour my new friend here a drink to ease whatever ails him?" She touched the arm of the hovering bartender, who seemed to shake himself out of his stupor long enough to look bewilderingly at Wyatt.

"Whiskey, thanks. And for yourself?" Wyatt replied, reaching for his wallet.

"Oh put that away, honey," Jeannie said, waving her hand dismissively. "Put it on Jimmy's tab." She said to the bartender. "And another martini, thanks sweetness." The bartender resumed his dreamy expression as he went about preparing their drinks.

"Uh thanks, that's really not necessary though…" Wyatt was aware he was doing a poor job already of taking the lead in this 'flirtation', as Jeannie appeared to be a very self-assured, forward woman. But at least she was talking… Wyatt just had to keep it that way.

"Oh hush, honey, it's my pleasure. It's not often I have anyone to talk to whilst I'm waiting on my driver." Wyatt noted the slight sadness in her voice as she waved her hand, hopping off her chair and coming to take the seat next to him. "I told you, it's on me, for whatever's troubling you. Which is what exactly?"

"Why would anything be troubling me?" Wyatt humored her, accepting his drink from Tommy.

"Oh, you have that look about you, like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. I've seen it a thousand times." She raised her martini glass to him. "Cheers. I'm a swell secret-keeper, sweetness, I promise."

As Wyatt opened his mouth to reply, their attention was caught by a small commotion across the room as a cushion sailed from the balcony to the middle of the dancefloor with a small _poof_ upon landing. The dancers all exchanged a laugh, whilst the band made a cheesy joke about wishing on shooting furniture instead of stars, segwaying into their next love song. Whilst no one was paying much attention to where the disturbance had originated from, Wyatt's eyes rose to find Lucy leaning over the balcony, fully out of the shadows, and looking befittingly guilty. She wasn't paying him any attention, her consideration instead drawn to the crowd below, concerned with ensuring she hadn't caused too much of a scene. His eyes softened as he observed her shrugging her shoulders slightly to an unseen Rufus behind her, and shaking her head whilst laughing quietly at herself (and, Wyatt knew, her lack of coordination).

"Oh, it's like that, huh?" Jeannie commented knowingly, following his eyes and taking a sip of her drink.

"I'm sorry?" Wyatt asked, reluctantly dragging his eyes away from Lucy, who was still chuckling. He could see her smiling lips moving, obviously in conversation with Rufus, and unaware she was no longer hidden from plain view.

Jeannie surveyed him for a moment, a small smile on her face, as she placed her glass back on the bar. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "You have an all kinds of goofy look on your face, mister, and I'm willing to bet it's because of that pretty lady you have your eye on up there."

 _Shit_. He had one job – _one job_ – and he was blowing it by being unable to keep his eyes off Lucy wherever they were. How was he supposed to convince anyone he was interested enough in them to confide information in him when five minutes in he was caught staring wistfully after Lucy Preston? _Good one, soldier_.

"Uh, no, we're not…" Wyatt shook his head, and took a gulp of his drink.

Jeannie quirked her eyebrows. "Coulda fooled me, sugar. You look kinda smitten with her. What's her name?"

Wyatt nursed his glass, not knowing exactly in which direction to take the conversation. On the one hand, he could throw caution to wind, proclaiming that he didn't know Lucy and he'd come up to the bar with the intention of seducing Jeannie (he inwardly cringed at this scenario, his gentlemanly nature forming mental fists of protest). On the other hand, she was _talking_ and that was the important thing - she seemed keen to pursue this line of enquiry, and he was confident he could swing the conversation around later. He made a decision: if he kept her talking, maybe he'd gain enough trust to get that party invite after all. It wasn't their original plan of Wyatt talking her up with flattery to get what they needed, but it was the plan he was going with.

He glanced up again at Lucy, still paying him no attention, for which he was enormously grateful, now deep in conversation with a still hidden Rufus. He sighed. "Lucy... Her name's Lucy."

"And is Lucy your someone special?" Jeannie asked kindly. Wyatt observed that although Jeannie was living up to her infamous reputation of easily coaxing information from people, she didn't appear to be doing so manipulatively as he'd assumed of her when he'd been earlier briefed about her character. There was a warmth in her eyes, and Wyatt perceived an impression genuine concern, which was saying something since he was a perfect stranger to her.

"I guess you could say it's complicated," Wyatt surmised, unknowingly echoing Lucy's earlier words to Rufus.

"How so, honey? If you like her you should go right ahead and tell her so. Women like that." She said confidently.

"We… work together," he began, treading carefully. "It takes up a lot of our time. Doesn't leave much room for…"

"Love?" she finished for him. "Pissh. My honey's an important businessman, and I'm forever telling him, I don't care how busy you get Jimmy, you just tell me that you love me, and all is forgiven. You like this woman? You _tell_ her, and you keep telling her, and you make it work, simple as that." She picked up her glass again for a victory sip.

"You really have all the answers, don't you?" Wyatt said as she laughed. "I don't know if it's that easy."

"Of course it's that easy, sugar." Jeannie stated assertively. "Tell me how she's got you in a spin, and then you can go tell _her_."

Wyatt exhaled. "She…" he paused, lost in thought, forgetting momentarily where he was. "She's passionate, y'know? And _so_ smart, like scary-smart. She knows everything, and she can be a bossy know-it-all, but in a sort of cute way. She cares so much about the people in her life… And she's beautiful obviously, but inside as well, like _really_ inside and out. She's funny when she's not trying to be, and she's clumsy but it's kind of adorable-" He stopped as Jeannie let out a low whistle, reminding him fleetingly of Rufus. Too late he realised he'd been babbling like a love-struck teenager. Damn, how strong were these drinks?

"Oh honey, you march up there and tell that girl you're in love with her right now, or else I'll do it for you!" she laughed.

Wyatt looked away, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment, slightly mortified he'd let so much slip. Jeannie's reputation for being the accumulator of secrets certainly preceded her.

"Tell me… you don't strike me as the sort of man who'd pine after a girl who wasn't interested in him. Is she sweet on you too?" Jeannie enquired.

The million dollar question. Sometimes Wyatt thought – hoped – _maybe_ _yes._ She held his lingering glances, allowed him to buckle her into the Lifeboat when she could easily do it herself, threw herself into rib-shattering hugs when they were reunited after being apart. She constantly reminded him that it was him who she trusted, who she needed, when her world was crashing in around her. It was _his_ apartment in which she had sought out comfort when her mom had turned out to be 'Satan's Mistress' (Rufus's affectionate pet-name for Carol Preston). It was Wyatt's chest that she had buried herself in as she cried herself to sleep that night after she walked out of her mother's house and Wyatt's arms that she required to hold her when she was feeling jittery whenever they returned to the present. And that kiss in Arkansas, which he replayed in his mind more than was probably healthy, well… she had definitely kissed him back, he knew he hadn't imagined that (and he'd overanalysed the whole damn situation enough to be fairly confident about it).

"Well…" he shrugged, smiling stupidly at the thought of Lucy returning any kind of affection. "A guy can dream… but you'd have to ask her yourself to be sure. I guess I'm still working up the nerve."

Jeannie narrowed her eyes at him, smiling impishly. "That's a swell idea, honey. I think we should do just that."

"Uh… what?" Wyatt asked, suddenly panicked.

"Why don't we go on up and have a little chat with your pretty lady? Oh, come on, it'll be fun!" She said, gleefully slapping him on the forearm. "And who knows, you might even thank me for it." She winked as she jumped off the bar stool, landing gracefully despite the killer heels. Wyatt felt the colour drain out of his face because one: this was so not the plan, and two: he didn't need a glamour-puss mediator informing Lucy he was crazy, stupid in love with her when he would really like to do that on his own terms (and hell, who knew what Rufus was telling her up there already).

Luckily, Wyatt was saved by a sharp-suited gentleman from the front desk arriving to inform the insatiable Ms Templeton that her car had arrived and was waiting to whisk her away. Wyatt swore to himself he would find this man in the present and throw himself at his feet in gratitude.

"Oh, rats," Jeannie cursed, her shoulders visibly deflating. "I was all ready to play matchmaker too! Such a pity." She sighed, turning back to Wyatt and fixing him with a penetrating stare, her voice turning business-like. "Now Wyatt, it has been just delightful chatting to you this evening, but I want you to promise me something."

"Uh, sure, what's that?" Wyatt asked, wondering if his relief would only be fleeting.

"Your Lucy sounds like one hell of a gal. Even if you don't tell that sweet thing upstairs that you're head over heels for her, you should at least ask her for a date. You know, start off slow. What's the worst that could happen?"

Wyatt marvelled at her confidence, and couldn't help but chuckle. "She could say no?"

"Oh, you're a peach!" Jeannie laughed. "I have a hunch she won't say no. Don't look now, but she's spying on this little scene right now and I can practically see the blue coming off her. She's sad that you're sat here talking to me. And a little jealous, I'd wager too."

"Huh." Wyatt said quietly, running his hand along his jaw. That _was_ encouraging. He flicked his eyes up the balcony as Jeannie busied herself with locating her purse and wrapping herself in her mink. He caught sight of Lucy staring down at him unblinkingly, her eyes going wide at being caught out. Quick as a flash she was gone, Wyatt chuckling quietly to himself.

"Now listen, sugar, I have to go. But my boyfriend is having a party tomorrow night at the Hayward Mansion on 21st and Elm, 7pm. Dress to impress. Jimmy keeps a strict guest list, I'll add you on. Why don't you bring Lucy and you can tell me all about how as soon as I left you went and swept her off her feet and planted one hell of a smooch on her, huh? I want to hear the end of this story." She winked, straightening her fur around her. "Oh Tommy, honey, get me a pen, would you?" He obliged and she scribbled the address on a napkin, tucking it in Wyatt's jacket pocket.

Wyatt laughed. "Sure thing. We'll be there."

"And you'll take my advice?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I'll work on it," Wyatt assured her.

"You make sure you do, honey. You're a catch, Mr Logan. And I'm willing to bet your Lucy thinks so too." Jeannie leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "See you at the party, sweetness." She waggled her fingers coyly in parting, all eyes following her as she departed the ballroom.

Wyatt visibly exhaled a sigh of relief, retrieving the napkin with the scrawled address on it. He'd succeeded in acquiring the information they needed, mission accomplished… just not exactly in the most conventional of ways. He smirked at himself - he was sent in to convince Jeannie of his faux-amorous intentions towards her and spent the whole time mooning over Lucy. He was the one supposed to be coaxing the secrets out of Jeannie, not the other way round. ' _Great will of steel you've got there, man!'_ a Rufus-like voice whispered in his mind. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

As Wyatt tucked the napkin back in his pocket and headed for lobby, he wondered what exactly Lucy and Rufus would think about his little performance. He didn't have long to wait as they'd clearly rushed downstairs as soon as they'd seen Jeannie making her exit. They were already waiting in Reception, Lucy looking anxious and drawn, and Rufus looking gleeful.

"Hey there, Casanova," Rufus greeted him wickedly as he walked towards them. Wyatt rolled his eyes.

"So?" Lucy asked tightly, eyebrows raised.

"Got it," he said, patting his jacket pocket. "Tomorrow, 7pm. We're on the guest list."

Lucy exhaled slowly, closing her eyes briefly in relief. "Good. That's good."

"What was she like?" Rufus asked.

"Uh, a little intimidating, but actually pretty down-to-earth." Wyatt replied, watching Lucy as he did so. Her eyes had dropped to the floor, and she looked a little dejected despite their triumph in having a momentary upper-hand over Emma.

"I think this calls for some celebratory drinks, what do you say?" Rufus suggested, nudging Lucy's shoulder and trying to boost the team comradery.

"Um, I think I'm just going to go up to the room. I'm pretty tired... you two have enough fun for me too, ok? I'll, uh, see you later." She gave a small smile and turned on her heel, disappearing behind the elevator doors a few seconds later.

Wyatt sighed and hung his head. "How pissed is she?" he asked Rufus flatly.

"She's not _mad_ …" Rufus replied, not quite meeting his eye. "I think she just needs a minute to process. She knows you were just acting, but still… you looked pretty cosy down there."

Wyatt huffed in frustration, staring after the closed elevator doors. "Rufus, I'm going to tell you something, and you are in no way allowed to make a big deal about it, or crack any jokes, deal?"

"I don't know man, that's really not my style… I mean, I can limit it to 1959 but when we're back home all bets are off." Wyatt dead-eyed him. "Ok, ok, I'm kidding. What's up?"

"I didn't exactly stick to the plan in there... I, uh, mostly talked about Lucy." He gruffly cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

Rufus' eyes were bugging out of his head as he tried to contain a laugh. "So what the hell did you and Jeannie Templeton talk about? Man, you are the lamest Romeo _ever_."

"She, uh, mainly gave me advice. She was a hell of a lot more helpful than some people." Wyatt added sarcastically.

"Dude," Rufus grinned, shaking his head. "You are in _so_ deep. I'll catch you later."

"Where are you going?" Wyatt asked, frowning, as Rufus turned on his heel and began heading back to the bar.

Rufus turned and faced him. "You're going to go up and tell Lucy how pathetic you are, and then you're both going to get over yourselves and admit to some stuff. Just promise me you'll leave a tie on the door if things get out of hand, ok?"

"Hey, Rufus?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. You and Jeannie have a lot in common." Wyatt added, grinning.

"Well, I do look great in sequins… Go get her, man." Rufus winked.

* * *

When Wyatt reached the 4th floor, he made his way slowly to the end of the hallway to the room they'd secured for their overnight sojourn. He stood outside the door, contemplating his next move. _Pull yourself together, Logan. You're a goddamn Master Sergeant, you can handle this._ 'This' being a beautiful spitfire historian with a habit of flustering him with a single glance. _Shit._

He took a deep breath to steady himself and knocked gently on the door. He heard her approach from the other side and check the peephole like he was always reminding her to do ( _'What if you just opened the door without checking and Emma was stood on the other side aiming a gun at your heart? What then, Lucy?' 'I'd thank her for her politeness, Wyatt. Calm down.')_.

She slid back the deadbolt and opened the door, standing back to grant him entry. She smiled at him tiredly. "That was fast. Did you forget something?"

He walked in, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure how to begin as she closed the door behind him. He turned to face her, taking a seat on the edge of one of the twin beds. "Uh, yeah, I didn't really feel like celebrating. Can we talk?"

"Ok…" she replied cautiously, hugging her arms to herself and leaning against the dresser opposite where he sat.

"So… downstairs, when I got the address from Jeannie… she, um, didn't exactly give it to me because I flirted with her-"

"Wyatt, you really don't need to explain, it's fine-"

"No, it's _not_ fine, because you didn't see what you thought you saw. I ended up making an idiot of myself, pretty much like I'm doing now, because she saw right off the bat the way I was looking at you and she'd never have believed I was trying anything with her. She had my number from the start. She asked who you were and I lost it." _No turning back now._ "I couldn't stop talking about you Lucy, ok? She told me to come up here and tell you just how damn much I care about you or she was going to do it for me. _That's_ how I got the party invitation… because she wanted to see how all this turned out." He exhaled, all out of breath, both relieved and terrified. He steadily held her gaze. "Feel free to jump in any time." He said a little dejectedly.

A slow smile spread across her face. "That… wasn't the plan."

"Nope… I told you I wasn't good at the whole bar thing." He grinned at her, encouraged by her own smile.

"Wow. And there I was thinking you were pretty good at this whole smooth chivalrous charm thing you've got going on." Her eyes were full of mirth. "I certainly fell for it."

"Hey now, you get the good stuff, I don't just hand that out to everyone." He pretended to be wounded by her words, then paused as he took in the full meaning, raising his eyebrows in equal parts hopefulness and surprise. "Wait. What was that last part?"

She dipped her head slightly, laughing quietly and looking at him from under her eyelashes, smiling coyly. "This whole perfect gentleman schtick you've got going on? Yeah, pretty effective. I may or may not have spent the whole time you were gone trying to convince Rufus I wasn't the least bit jealous, and he repeated the words 'bullshit' and 'liar' more times than I could count."

Wyatt grinned, shaking his head. _Well done, Rufus_. He stood, taking a few steps closer to her. "So I'm pretty sure I just admitted I'm crazy about you… if I didn't use those exact words, that's what I was aiming for by the way. How do you feel about that exactly?"

"Receptive, very receptive." Lucy chuckled, taking a few steps towards him herself and bridging the gap between them. "And just so we're clear… I feel the same. Totally, utterly crazy. God help me." Wyatt reached for her, tugging him to him and wrapping his arms tightly around her, burying his grinning face in her neck. The relief he felt at them both being on the same page, _finally_ , was palpable.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers. "Very happy to hear it, ma'am."

Lucy rolled her eyes at him, opening her mouth to chastise him but she never got the chance. He captured her mouth fiercely with his own and her words were lost in her throat. Her hands snaked through his hair and to his jaw as his tongue brushed her lower lip, making her body arch into his. His hands gripped her waist, were in her hair, running up her back, cupping her cheek, _everywhere_ _._ This kiss was demanding and neither of them held , finally, finally they had crossed a line and had given in to the _what ifs_ and _maybes_.

The possibilities were starting to look very sunny from where Wyatt was standing.

 **FIN**


End file.
